


If You Had Life Eternal

by runicmagitek



Category: Diablo (Video Game), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, Look If Blizzard Can Retcon Whatever They Want In Their Own Lore I Can Do As I Damn Well Please, Loyalty Kink, Magic Meta, Mutual Pining, Necromancer Jaina, Post-Canon, Reunions, Teacher-Student Relationship, magic kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: A violent disturbance in Sanctuary threatens the balance of life and death. Jaina is tasked to investigate the aftermath, but ulterior motives lead her astray—especially when she's more than familiar with the man behind it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoslam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoslam/gifts).



> Remember when I mentioned my roots for a certain Dota pairing was in adoring this ship and that was a story for another time? And when I said I totally understand trying to work on a late treat? Welp, here we are ;D

She knew before the Deathspeaker summoned her.

Distant echoes of lost souls teased the endless hallways of the Necropolis. Bones lined the foundations which carved through the dense soil beneath a thriving jungle. Those haunting whispers drifted between planes of existence—both alive, yet dead—no different from songbirds soaring above. Simple folk might have found the ambiance more horrifying than soothing. Then again, no one outside of the Priests of Rathma stirred in the crypt-like burrow.

Even when she first arrived over a decade ago, Jaina didn’t flinch. What many viewed as a prison, she found a haven. Grimoires and forgotten artifacts overwhelmed her personal study, spilling from polished bone shelves onto desks and nightstands alike. Every page worn, every spine cracked and loved all the same. A dusty musk found only in archives lingered in the air, accompanied by several floating flames of coldfire. Skeletal critters perched on top of book stacks; all splayed open once makeshift bookmarks became sparse. Curious heads tilted and turned to Jaina as she stared at a single, fresh sheet of parchment.

Brilliant, blue eyes flicked from side to side. The glow from her pupil-less stare matched the coldfire flames circling her. She drew in a breath, fingers curling into the paper, yet didn’t dare puncture it. No, not this one. So much as a crinkle would ruin the pristine page.

Again the echoes trickled in past the cracks in her door, again that child-like amusement reminded Jaina of where she needed to be.

She heaved out a sigh and stood. “I heard you the first time,” she muttered. “I’m on my way.”

A swift, icy breeze whipped by her. She swore a face formed in that brief exchange of magic—a mere glimpse of a reflection from another plane. It vanished with the wind and left her in silence and stillness. Message delivered. All that remained was to fulfill _her_ end of the promise.

She paused before vacating her desk. Blue eyes drifted back to the parchment laying on the lone space on her crowded desk. It said everything she needed to know. Whatever the Deathspeaker was inclined to reveal to Jaina was an afterthought.

Jaina dismissed all but a lone coldfire flame. The small, pale blue light followed her as she enveloped a black cloak around her form, concealing all but her throat and arms. Delicate bones of former minions from the days of Kalan lined her gloves. Onyxes and ivory adorned her ashen throat. Several flicks of her fingers tidied up the stray books on her desk and opened the door—meager cantrips she had yet to forget, best kept out of sight from her brethren priests.

“Behave while I’m gone,” she purred to the reanimated creatures, scritching beneath the chin of a skeletal kitten. _But I won_ _’t be here for much longer once I return._

Her heels clicked along the marble floors. A perpetual chill permeated the dry air, no different to Jaina now than a fireplace in the dead of winter. She navigated the labyrinth in solitude; the ghostly whispers swished by and nothing else. Her kin either locked themselves in their own studies or ventured elsewhere in Sanctuary to uphold the balance of life and death. It was a matter of time before she followed the latter in their footsteps once more; only the well-seasoned priests relaxed in cold rooms to study and scribe the finer details of Sanctuary while newly anointed priests survived years of fieldwork to uphold balance. Someone of her caliber was summoned when events of equal measure occurred.

Funny how _this_ was what unearthed her from isolation.

Narrow hallways opened to a massive chasm. Pillars of ice-glazed metal and bone crawled to the top and retreated into the earth. Wayward spirits and summoned specters wove between arches and domes, either to deliver messages to their keepers or play tricks to the acolytes struggling to maintain a bond. Skeletons marched by Jaina with military precision, albeit with an occasional limp and stutter. For every thousands upon thousands of minions working throughout the Necropolis alone, there was a sole priest pulling their strings, just as delicate as life itself. A wrong movement and the ties snapped, the bond severed, and the illusion faded. Jaina prided herself in mastering such a feat. So did the Deathspeaker.

Amidst all the interconnecting passages, seamlessly suspended like a spiderweb, one catwalk led to the central rotunda. Sculptures carved from slabs of ivory stood by each archway depicting the Deathspeakers throughout Sanctuary’s lifespan. Scrimshaw decorated those bodies and held their legacy. If the whispers in the Necropolis rang true, there was promise of a statue to be made in Jaina’s image. Not now, but eventually. It never rippled in her thoughts as she neared the structure, sights set on the sole individual standing inside.

Striped from his ancient, skeletal armor and clad in simple, black linens, he braced himself against the banister securing him from a fatal fall. Rumors said the pit below was bottomless, but a solid ground wasn’t necessary to eviscerate a soul. Sometimes falling in an abyss was enough. Such a fate didn’t stir dread in Jaina or Deathspeaker Xul; she approached him and marveled at the endless darkness as one did with the sunrise.

“Tardy as always, Jaina,” Xul murmured, more amused than annoyed.

Her lips curled ever-so-slightly. “Time escapes me when I’m lost in a book.”

A wrinkled face framed with white hair came into view as Jaina took her place beside Xul. He never turned to acknowledge her—a hint of his superiority seeping through. Kingdoms had their throne rooms, but the Priests of Rathma coexisted amongst acolytes and masters alike. No matter the titles they bestowed one another, death never discriminated.

“Not all knowledge is stored in tomes,” he said.

“Of course not.”

“And you know that better than most.”

She withheld the need to roll her eyes. What was his point to all this? _Give me the assignment, Xul, and be done with it._

“Which is why—” His deep blue eyes, brighter than Jaina’s, shifted to her. “—I need you elsewhere, outside of your study.”

Jaina folded her arms across her torso and lifted her chin. “Where am I needed?”

“There have been reports of a disturbance out in the southeastern territory,” Xul explained, returning his attention to the dark pit. “Somewhere nestled between the ruins of Viz-jun and the Torajan Jungles. Nothing has occupied the land for centuries, but overnight, there have been signs of civilization. Something small, yet sophisticated. Almost like a relic from the Golden Era of Magic.”

Jaina held her breath. _Not almost. Exactly like that._

“Whatever happened there,” Xul continued, “the threads of life have been rendered unrecognizable. Foul magic, no doubt. It shouldn’t exist. Every drop is another ripple disrupting the balance we maintain. And I require you to investigate this anomaly before it self-implodes again. This aligns with your studies, yes?”

“I’ll find out when I arrive.”

“For someone who has had more interaction with ink and paper than anything else in the past year, I imagined you’d be certain on this matter.”

“The arcane is not like death or blood magic; it is fickle and does as it pleases, despite preparations and execution.”

“Which is exactly why _you_ shall inspect this matter.”

Her black nails sunk into her arms. “Shall I acquire samples of whatever is causing this disturbance?”

“Not necessary,” Xul shot back. “Record what you must for your own archival projects, but destroy any evidence that survived. Order must be restored.”

“Of course.”

“And Jaina.”

Xul slowly faced her, an unreadable expression masking his features. Her surroundings plummeted into darkness until only his glowing gaze loomed above her.

“You’ve shown nothing but promise since you first arrived here. I expect borderline perfection from you at this point in your service to Rathma, but do be cautious. Rogue wizards are chaotic entities on their own, but whatever forces they’re meddling with now is beyond their comprehension.”

Rogue wizards. _That_ _’s_ what Xul believed to be the source of this? Part of Jaina longed to smirk at the rare moment her knowledge exceeded the Deathspeaker, but that icy stare shot down her spine and rendered her frozen.

“I understand,” she eventually said.

The shadows faded. The dim light illuminated the Necropolis and Xul nodded.

“Then you know what to do,” he said, eyes elsewhere.

By then, Jaina already turned to leave.

 

* * *

 

Skeletal cats and ravens kept a vigil over Jaina as she whipped about her study. Frantic eyes scouted the premise for useful items in the travels to come. Foggy bottles and rare reagents plopped into a sturdy sack with room to spare. She sighed and paused. What was left? Collect what held an inkling of sentimental value? Jaina smirked; she required a bag with a pocket dimension for that.

She reframed her thoughts—what couldn’t she part with? Or better yet, what was she willing to leave behind to preserve the illusion that she intended to return?

Fingertips grazed book covers, each one consumed multiple times. Parchment stuck out in between the pages with her own extensive notes. Years of observation and research—all to document the shifts in balance and the measures taken to maintain it. Life and death were forever in a fluid dance with one another; the Priests of Rathma swore to support the music for said dance. _It_ _’s for a just cause,_ Jaina had reminded herself daily since she arrived at the Necropolis. _This is the best way to help—to ensure no one abuses either side of the same coin._

That sentiment fell to deaf ears when she returned to the letter on her desk.

Jaina scooped up the crisp paper. Notes of smoky cardamom soaked into the letter. Impeccable, black ink swirled about the surface. She almost heard his voice in the calligraphy—resounding, yet alluring. Inhaling, Jaina read it for the tenth time:

 

_My beloved Jaina,_

_I cannot say how much time I have, save for writing this to you. My fears have become reality. There is no telling if I can recover what is lost. I would never expect you to know how to solve my problems, but I must beg of you one, simple request—please find me quickly. You know where. I will hold on for you. I always have._

_Your Phoenix_

Tears caught in her eyelashes and froze. Jaina licked her lips, released a trembling breath, and closed her eyes. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; he cautioned her of the day this would happen. Jaina simply hoped with each passing day that, for once, Kael was wrong. Damn it all, _why_ couldn’t he be wrong about _this_?

She held the letter to her chest, careful not to crumble it in the process. The subtle scent tickled her nose. Another inhale and she succumbed to memories she refused to acknowledge within the Necropolis.


	2. Chapter 2

It was never her intention to leave Bramwell, but her innate magic sparked both wonder and dread in her family. Her parents promised the Yshari Sanctum would help temper her abilities. Other relatives glared at her as if Diablo fashioned Jaina as his new avatar. Instead of tending to mundane chores and laughing with her peers over silly rumors, she teased mana out of thin air to light candles and braid her thick hair. Once Jaina reached the age to potentially marry an unknown farm boy, she departed the dull countryside and entered unknown territory—her new home.

Caldeum was a glittering jewel in comparison to Bramwell. Vibrant hues swept through the streets from the fabrics to the spices to the architecture. Even the common folk appeared as royalty to Jaina in her dull, muted attire, a standard for a field worker than an apprentice mage. She averted her gaze the closer the caravan reached the Yshari Sanctum; homesickness hollowed her stomach, yet Bramwell withheld any notion of comfort. Wherever she deserved to live, Jaina worried such a place didn’t exist.

Those baseless anxieties vanished upon entering the vast building— _he_ was there.

Her primary teacher was one of the distinguished members of the Council of Clans: Kael’thas Sunstrider, the head of the Sin’dorei House, a Mage Clan with roots dating before even the Golden Era of Magic. Jaina tried not to gawk during introductions. She _knew_ of his clan, or at least read multiple texts mentioning the name. Of all the clans, _his_ survived. And what boundless knowledge such a clan possessed. With any luck, he could share a sliver with her.

Yet apprehension stifled her curiosity. He held himself with a mixture of dignity and poise, amplified by his rich, violet robes and impressive height. Sharp edges sculpted his face—extrinsic features setting him apart from most men she encountered. Nothing crippled his majestic foundations, a constant air following him that made others either fear or hate him, though inferior, nonetheless.

Jaina couldn’t bring herself to despise him for his arrogance, but she did fear her ignorance colored his perception of her.

 “Never be afraid to ask questions, Jaina,” he had told her a week after her arrival. “How else are you to learn if you don’t unleash your inquisitiveness?”

And asked she did. Jaina marveled at how he effortlessly recalled information, as if an invisible archive sat at his constant disposal. She left her books untouched within the libraries, dense bookshelves looming above like trees, in favor of listening to him. Magic soaked his tongue and beckoned for Jaina to memorize every word.

Throughout her stay, she did more than remember his lectures. She basked in his voice, the knowledgeable, yet serene quality enveloping her like a blanket. She gazed upon his long fingers poking out from his sleeves to demonstrate a cantrip. She traced from afar the keen lines comprising his face, his eyes, his lips. She wondered what it would be like if those lips trailed away from talks of history and magic theory to explore elsewhere.

Jaina caught her breath in those moments and tried to laugh at herself. This was her teacher and she was his student. _I didn_ _’t come all the way out here to flirt with someone who is more interested in books than me,_ Jaina mused. Still, there was no harm in the occasional daydream amidst her assignments and studies.

If only she could blame Kael entirely for the hiccups in her concentration.

In his absence—he couldn’t instruct Jaina every waking hour, to her dismay—she returned to the books she abandoned. Jaina devoured multiple texts in a week which detailed arcane discoveries and exemplary artifacts. By the time Jaina read every tome in the archive’s western wing, a subtle pattern developed in the ink. History repeated itself. Anyone was aware of the concept, let alone a mage-in-training. She expected to unveil ethereal secrets instead of unearthing centuries upon centuries of turmoil. Magic didn’t belong to anyone in Sanctuary. Its very existence angered the angels and teased the demons. Wars broke out, lives were lost, and a semblance of peace lasted for mere seconds in Sanctuary’s lifespan. Jaina’s brow wrinkled with each new chapter she plodded through. She snapped multiple quills than she cared to keep track of in her notetaking. Even her spells wavered with each attempt to procure them.

Kael found her one day after she spent almost a year submerged in written words. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her apprehension returning. Or maybe he would finally deem her incompetent and demand the council to dismiss Jaina. The thought of leaving his side gutted her than the thought of failure.

But a gentle, warm hand covered her own when she knocked over an inkwell. Jaina gasped lightly peered up to Kael. Thick, black ink pooled on the table and dared to mar documents older than her parents, but Kael gazed upon Jaina and nowhere else.

His eyes… they glowed. She failed to notice until then. A subtle light, like a smoldering fire in the distance, but it was _there_.

“Is something troubling you, Jaina?” he had asked.

His voice sent a chill fiercer than any ice spell in her repertoire. She resisted the urge to lick her lips.

“It’s… no, never mind.”

Kael perked up an eyebrow. “It pains me to see you this way. Please, if I can alleviate whatever is troubling you, then allow me to help.”

The words blurred in her mind. With each deep inhale, clarity lifted the mental fog and she bestowed life to her troubled thoughts.

“Is this our fate?” Jaina asked, scanning the ancient books holding the truths which haunted her. “Are we to participate in future bloodshed for… for what, exactly? Knowledge? Control? A purpose in this forsaken world?” She shook her head. “I thought the mysteries of magic would be more forgiving, but it’s all paved by greed and blood. I don’t wish to be a part of that cycle. It’s… it’s not right. People shouldn’t die over magic, nor should they base their self-worth off it. There must be another option, one where we can live in actual balance with these forces. Maybe then the angels and demons will see us as something other than lesser creatures. Perhaps we could be equals.” An airy chuckle escaped Jaina. “Sounds like a fantasy than magic itself, doesn’t it?”

She expected Kael to lecture her at a bare minimum or even laugh at her outlandish thought process. Students were to ask questions, but _this_? This struck the very foundations which upheld the Yshari Sanctum. It was grounds for expulsion, if not outright banishment.

Humor never graced Kael’s lips. His brows didn’t bunch together nor did he avert his gaze. He regarded Jaina in silence until she yearned to shatter the tension with a scream.

“I would like to show you something,” Kael finally murmured, “if you’d allow me.”

Jaina blinked, then nodded. He didn’t show her then, but come morning, he waited for her at the bottom of the dormitory staircase. Twilight seeped through a window, the blue glow imbuing the interior with a cool mist. Jaina gingerly approached with a floating candle guiding her way. She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze to her boots; she felt underdressed in her simple travel pants, tunic, and cloak when Kael stood prepared for a lavish banquet than a morning excursion. But his stare didn’t linger with disgust on her messy braid or unwashed face—she swore admiration glimmered in his expression.

Before she could speak, Kael closed the space between them and dipped down to match her gaze. In the limited light, she discerned his usual purple threads traded for crimson silks. “Shall we?”

Again the words caught in her throat. Kael inhaled and blew out her candle. Sparks crackled around them. The embers splintered like broken glass midair, burning away the space to reveal… something else entirely. Jaina stared, lips ajar, as the spell unfolded. The Yshari Sanctum turned to ash and yielded to a new location.

She swirled in place and gasped. Sleek architecture of gold and ruby replaced her surroundings. Floating fireballs illuminated the expanse, stretching out to the horizon with nothing but gilded halls intermixed with lush, temperate forests. Clockwork golems patrolled the area while others dressed similar to Kael conversed beneath nouveau archways.

“What is this?” Jaina asked. “This isn’t… are we still in the—”

“We are a long way from the Yshari Sanctum,” Kael explained. “As for the what exactly—” He smirked. “Let me show you.”

Kael escorted her through the maze-like foundations. Dawn trickled through dense leaves to spill fractured sunlight along the path. Jaina drank in the myriad details they passed by, only to settle her attention onto Kael—he was but a missing puzzle piece to the enigma surrounding them.

A light more brilliant than the sun pulsed from afar. Jaina tucked behind Kael as they approached the source. Others greeted Kael in a language Jaina never heard—perhaps a niche dialect of a dead language. Their words vanished from her thoughts as she froze before the pool of swirling light.

Sweet and sour notes tinged the air and teased her senses—it was _magic_. Absolutely raw, wild magic. Mana in its purest form. It wriggled and flourished as if it was alive as anything else.

“This….” Jaina inched closer, damning herself for not bringing her notebooks for observations. “What is it?”

“Do you like it?” Kael asked, his voice caressing her neck.

“Like it? That’s putting it lightly. This… this is phenomenal.” She spun around to face him. “Do the mages in the Sanctum know of this? A force like this could accelerate our knowledge by—”

“Centuries, if not millennia. Yes, I know.”

Jaina tented her brows. His words shattered and dissolved before leaving his mouth; for the first time, she discerned sadness within those beautiful eyes.

Kael sat with Jaina along the edge of the massive basin containing the arcane phenomenon—the Sunwell. He detailed alchemical properties capable of curing puzzling diseases, crafted spells beyond the limits of the High Heavens and Burning Hells combined, and recounted eras long before historians bothered to document them. Its origins remained unspoken, but the key factor was that it continued to thrive centuries since it tore apart from the Ether to nestle into Sanctuary.

“My people and I,” Kael explained, “made an oath to protect it. After countless years, we have made a dent in the Sunwell’s potential. And I have seen what happens when men are blind with greed. If anyone else were to know of its existence, an event worse than the initial fall of the Mage Clans would transpire.”

He rested a warm hand over Jaina’s. Her loose fist fit comfortably in his palm. She restrained herself from unfurling her fingers to test the spaces between his own.

“There is resistance stirring within the Yshari Sanctum,” he warned her with a whisper. “The order we strive to maintain will shatter. History will repeat itself. It’s simply a matter of when.” Kael pursed his lips. Brilliant blue eyes fell from Jaina. “I do not wish to see you caught up in a revolution. If anything were to happen to you….”

She tensed and prepared to throw herself into an argument. Whatever happened, she could defend herself. Delinquent mages didn’t scare her. But words failed Jaina. The realization struck through her like a cool breeze in a sweltering, summer night.

This wasn’t a discussion of whether Jaina was a capable mage; this was about Kael ensuring not a soul laid a finger upon her.

“What about you?” she dared to ask.

“My life is of no concern to these matters.”

Her eyes widened. “How can you say that? Unless you’ve been scribing your own biography, whatever knowledge you hold—which is quite a lot, might I add—will perish. Whatever you’ve learned from the Sunwell… it would be for nothing.”

The smirk was short-lived, but it lived, nonetheless. “You mustn’t fear for that. I am but a phoenix. We all are.” He gestured to his kin in the sweep distance, testing complex contraptions and mixing metallic liquids. “The Sunwell has seen to that.”

 _And just as gorgeous as one,_ she longed to add.

“What can I do?” Jaina asked after a moment. “To help you and the Sunwell?”

He returned his attention to her. While his lips stayed still, that tender gaze smiled on its own. “Our illusions keep this area a secret and allow us to discover finer details of the Sunwell. You wish for balance in this world torn apart by magic? Then there is a place better suited for you, somewhere past the Yshari Sanctum’s hold.”

She didn’t comprehend the weight of his suggestion until the Council of Clans summoned her a week later during her studies. Old men claiming to know what was the best for her announced the end of her training within the Yshari Sanctum. They unfurled scrolls and recited the reasons, all while Jaina bit back a knowing smirk. She was deemed unfit, but Kael already had other plans for her.

“Where am I going?” she asked him before returning to her accommodations to pack.

Kael pried his sights from a letter he scribed. He released the quill—the radiant feather continuing where he left off—and traced forgotten runes in the air. Foreign words oozed from his mouth. Magic pulsed from his fingertips and expanded into a bubble around them. Echoes of lectures several study rooms down fell to silence. Time froze. The opalescent sheen of the barrier spell faded to nothing, but the arcane scent still marked the air. A bittersweet smile adorned Jaina’s face; if only they stayed together long enough for him to share his magical repertoire.

Or perhaps something even more.

“Somewhere safe,” Kael said once securing their privacy. “Somewhere outside of any mage’s control and thus their corruption. My associates have contacts that will secure you a new home and thus a new way of life to adapt to.”

Jaina raised an eyebrow. “And that is… where, exactly?”

His lips trembled. “Far away from here.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She scanned his desk, as if searching for an answer within his neat stacks of tomes, trinkets, and reagents. “I thought you wanted me to help you? How is me not being here of any use to either of us?”

“You will be useful, Jaina. Learn all you can without the council’s supervision. You will have access to what my people have never been able to come close to. Eventually, this will come to fruition, so please—have patience, _dalah'surfal_.”

When had he started referring to her as that? The way it rolled off his tongue with nothing but tenderness; she didn’t need to ask for a translation to comprehend the weight behind it. Had she never noticed until now? Until it was too late?

“I….” Jaina smoothed her hands over one another. “I’ll miss you. I wish we had more time together. It was… a pleasure being your student.”

She almost choked on those words. The idea of departing without a sound pained her as much as their imminent goodbye.

“We will meet again,” Kael consoled her. “Perhaps not tomorrow or the next full moon, but sometime in this lifetime. I promise.”

Jaina coughed up a dry snicker. “I’m not sure if I can wait that long.”

She caught his eye and froze. Boundless wisdom swam within. Every atrocity, every pleasure—all tucked behind a lovely, blue gaze. Jaina longed to bask in what he experienced over the years. Not a wrinkle creased his skin, but those eyes held abundant knowledge to shame all libraries in existence.

And despite that, he looked to her as if she was the most prized experience of all the eras spent alive.

“Neither am I,” he said above a whisper.

They held eye contact, unable to turn away. Apprentice mages passed by the open entrance to Kael’s study, oblivious to the spell shrouding them from eavesdropping. She still needed to pack in preparation for her departure, needed to mentally brace herself for a new chapter in her life.

But not as much as she needed Kael.

Jaina approached his desk until her thighs bumped into the edge. Kael sat firmly in his chair as Jaina bent at the hip. One gloved hand braced along the surface. The other reached for Kael. Every blond strand swept out of his pristine face. She traced his cheekbones and jawline, tempted to tangle her fingers into his smooth hair. With a breath, she leaned closer. Kael lifted his chin to meet her.

Warmth eased into her lips and pulsed down between her thighs. Jaina whimpered with each gentle nibble, simultaneously wary of fizzling the moment too soon and yearning to burn down all of Yshari Sanctum if it meant expressing the hold he had on her. Arms trembled to keep her stable above the desk. Her lips quivered, a silent plea for more than featherlight kisses. Kael trailed fingertips up her neck and clung to the back of her head. All to plummet her further into his wanton mouth. It was plenty of kindle to melt her doubt and spark an insatiable fire in Jaina.

She blinked out of view and reappeared nestled in his lap. Kael gasped, his chair wobbling from the abrupt weight, yet caught Jaina all the same. She clung to him, face buried in his neck and legs straddling him all too well in the chair. Another inhale gifted her with his scent—a sophisticated blend of roasted spices and earthy musk. A content sigh trembled out of Jaina. Kael hugged her tight, stroking her pale, blonde hair. When Jaina dared to lift her head, she bumped noses with Kael and stared down at him from her new vantage point.

“I could get used to this view,” Jaina whispered, swearing she imagined those words.

But Kael never looked away while his heart thrummed against her. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Jaina chewed her lip, tucked hair behind her ear, and dove in to meet him halfway for a hard, desperate kiss.

Her gloves slipped off at some point. Kael tugged one off with his teeth, but the other’s disappearance remained a mystery. Same with his outer layers—no doubt Kael fashioned an improvised spell to rid them of unnecessary clothing—leaving him in refined tunic and trousers intended for a noble. Jaina wanted to pause and admire his lean form crushed beneath her. Almost on par with wanting to yank that pretty hair and drown him in overdue affection. They settled for compromise, clawing and squirming and gasping while exploring each other’s curves and muscles.

His shallow breaths teased her neck. She wiggled her hips deep into his, smirking when he rocked back in kind. Whatever doubts she harbored about Kael viewing her as nothing more than a meager student vanished with that rather firm reminder rubbing against her.

Extra clothing drifted from their bodies and floated elsewhere. Skin touched skin, gentle at first, then insistent. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his hand clung like a vice to her hip. Jaina held her breath and Kael guided her to sink down into his lap. Chills raced across her bones. Goosebumps flooded her skin. Then a warmth pulsed from her core, begging for more.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his words lost in her hair.

A decadent moan flowed from her grinning lips. “This is well outside of alright.” Her mouth ghosted his. “This is perfect.”

She didn’t care if the illusion barrier broke. She didn’t care if their peers stopped to witness them. She didn’t care if her cries shot past the silence spell and carried out to Bramwell. What mattered was the man cradling her while she breathlessly lost herself. Each time he filled her to the hilt, Jaina trembled further, anxious to unravel for Kael and Kael alone.

And when her stamina wavered, despite her stubborn intentions, Kael swept her into his arms, stood from his seat, and propped her against his desk. A flick of his wrist swept the surface clean of its contents. Loose pages fluttered about while books and trinkets crashed to the floor. Almost loud enough to warrant outside concern, if they slipped past the barrier, but Kael certainly didn’t pause to check. His attention never strayed from Jaina sprawled across his desk with blonde hair fanning out like a halo.

She mewled for him when his mouth found a new home along her neck and his hips pumped into her with utter abandon. Jaina tangled her hand in his finally disheveled hair while the other clung to the edge of the desk for stability. Several items lodged into her shoulders and spine, the discomfort a distant inconvenience in light of Kael’s attention. He lapped and nibbled her sensitive neck. He stroked her nipples through her top. He groaned in that foreign, native tongue of his and Jaina swore he recited an aphrodisiac spell. She pleaded for more. Anything. So long as it was him, she wanted to experience it. His hot tongue, his deft hands, his intoxicating scent, his wild thrusts. All of it.

Jaina writhed and succumbed to that blistering ecstasy. It squeezed her until she screamed, his name dancing on her tongue throughout a cascade of moans. He joined her with his own content purrs before melting into her embrace. Their hearts pounded out of sync. Sweat slicked their twitching bodies. Jaina licked her lips and squeezed Kael with both her arms and legs, fearing if she loosened for but a moment, he would slip away.

What a beautiful lie that was. No spells existed to mask the pain come morning as she gathered her belongings for the caravan bound eastward. None of the council or her peers joined outside to wish her farewell—only Kael. A fog lingered between them as sunlight crawled across the land.

“Be strong, Jaina,” Kael told her. “If anyone can follow this path ahead, it is you.”

She scoffed, unsure if her frustrations lied in him for ever suggesting this plan or herself for falling for him, of all people. “I don’t know if there’s enough strength in this entire universe to keep me standing without you.”

Kael was swift to scoop her hand and kiss her knuckles. “You are stronger than most individuals I’ve met throughout my days in Sanctuary. Your resolve is a rare one that shines almost as bright as the Sunwell. I fear that….” His gorgeous eyes evaded Jaina. “That I’d rather watch the Sunwell perish than know you ceased to exist.”

A short-lived smile flashed across her features. “You think too highly of me. Surely I cannot compare to a phenomenon as wonderful as _that_.”

“You can.” He cupped her face, flicking away the stray tears sliding down her cheeks. “I fear the Sunwell will one day be no more. Maybe it will collapse or implode or vanish—I don’t know.” He cackled quietly at his confession. “But when I look at you? I don’t harbor such fears.”

“I’m mortal, though, and you… you’re….” His constant exposure to the Sunwell somehow lengthened his lifespan. What did that even _make_ him, short of sublime? How was she to ever compare?

“You won’t burn out easily.” Kael kissed between her brows, a soft, lingering touch. “And one day we will reunite. For the Sunwell, for each other. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

An exhale squeezed past her tight, dry throat. Lowering her head and arms, Jaina stared at nothing. She had cried throughout her lonely voyage away from the Yshari Sanctum, away from Kael. Her eyes still glossed over when she initially entered the depths of the Necropolis. Different magic lived there, mixed with the scent of decay. It mimicked her knack for icy spells, though came at the exchange of her own essence. A constant bargain, forever stabilizing the proper balance between life and death. One did not exist without the other. Jaina was oblivious to the notion upon her first arrival. It wasn’t until her pale skin lost warmth and color and all but a single blonde lock faded to white and her eyes burned with coldfire that she began to understand.

She lied to her peers and the Deathspeaker, swore no allegiance to Rathma, and quietly observed the intricate threads binding life and death together. All for Kael. She would pursue mysteries withheld from him and establish a final era of peace. No more bloodshed over corrupt power. Magic would no longer belong to the greedy, but the worthy. They could accomplish it together. They _had_ to.

If only time tilted in their favor.

Jaina shuffled to her desk and crept beneath it. A single, stone slab wiggled free to reveal an obsidian lockbox. She smoothed a hand over the elemental runes sealing it, whispered a quick incantation, and watched it pop open. Stacks of neatly folded letters almost overflowed from within. Ethereal familiars transported each one, blinking out of reality upon delivery. A simple spell to blend with the wandering souls within the Necropolis, though nothing ostentatious to garner unwanted attention. Perhaps a simple mage might have been caught sneaking spells into the Necropolis, but none of them harnessed what the Sunwell offered. And without those familiars and letters, Kael was dead for all she knew.

He wrote often enough to rekindle her lonely heart. The Priests of Rathma practiced detachment from emotions to ensure fair judgment in protecting the balance; Jaina wore a cold mask beside her peers, removing it behind closed doors while engrossed in his letters. She yearned for his touch, his voice, anything to warm the cold chambers she now called home. He reminded Jaina of his devotion to her until the ink almost bled off the page. He wrote of sunsets and late-night studying he longed to share with her. He detailed fantasies he no longer kept to himself in hopes that his words aroused her like his hands and tongue—as much as the thought of _her_ aroused him.

All his letters sat before her. Every _damn_ one. Locked up for her own good, despite wanting to fall asleep next to them. She indulged in them when the solitude twisted her organs and stung her eyes—silent promises that he’d never forget her. In return, she made friends with the lonely souls of forgotten pets, who eagerly slipped through the untouched cracks of the Necropolis to seek out Kael. A small example of her new skills, bundled in a purring skeleton while rubbing his leg. She longed to do more. No letters attached—the very thought almost secured a fate worse than death for Jaina—but she hoped he knew. That she had yet to cease thinking of him, loving him. He _had_ to.

With a deep inhale, Jaina pried the lockbox out from its hidden compartment. She settled it onto her desk and gripped the sides. A breath eased out of her like a wandering breeze in a snowstorm. Frost coated the lockbox’s interior. The edges curled and blackened. A horrible rot filtered through the room as each letter disintegrated to mulch.

Jaina stared at the dusty heap. Her shoulders knotted up with newfound tension. Maybe it wasn’t sufficient. Maybe she’d die before she ever reached him. She wanted to laugh at that pathetic blip of weakness; perhaps the priests could have outmatched the young girl who had recently forsaken the arcane arts, but she was no longer a student of magic. She was a master necromancer, one of Rathma’s beloved servants. They knew better than to tempt Jaina.

One last inhale and she pivoted away to retrieve her scythe, satchel, and traveling raiment. Where she was going didn’t require love letters; she’d see Kael, her phoenix, soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Snow drifted in the air before settling in the cracked earth. Skeletal hooves galloped across the thick, white blanket stretching past the desert. Somewhere well beyond Caldeum’s borders was a lush forest hiding the secrets she vowed to assist Kael with. Despite Deathspeaker Xul’s information, no map marked the elusive location, nor had Kael mentioned any prominent landmarks. Jaina pushed onward with determination tugging her heart. Perhaps his magical signature stained the area. Maybe it was enough to find him.

She tugged the reins and brought her steed to a trot, the first time she allowed herself to travel at a leisurely pace since her departure. Sleep never visited her at night, not since she received Kael’s letter. The sooner she reached him and ensured his safety, the sooner she’d finally relax.

But her brows knitted together as she surveyed the land. Bare trees emerged from the mist blurring the landscape. No blossoms or leaves or songbirds filled the crippled branches. Whispers of what was once alive struck Jaina like a million needles found in an icy ocean—a sign that life flourished before stripped by force. Something worse than murder, something that produced hateful, vengeful spirits.

More trees rolled into view. An entire dead forest swallowed Jaina as she delved deeper into the area. Nothing but a graveyard now.

She hitched her breath. _This_ _… this used to be…._ Snowflakes landed on the mask she wore—a stag’s skull, plagued by demonic blood with multiple, eldritch antlers protruding through her hood. Jaina swiped a gloved finger along the stray flakes and stared, her eyes two glowing orbs lost to darkness in the skull’s sockets. Soot smeared the black fabric. One last inhale confirmed her suspicions; it wasn’t snow, but ash.

Jaina squinted at the grey skies past the silhouettes of treetops. Was this the Sunwell’s doing?

An abrupt shrill echoed through the forest. Jagged air clawed her throat. Nothing flew or ran away out of fear of the inhuman cry. Only her and whatever produced the awful, blood-curdling sound.

The wind shifted. The dry air turned acrid. A branch snapped, followed by a tree. Jaina turned her mount around in time to greet the massive claws eager to sink into warm flesh.

She vanished and her skeletal mount collapsed. Blood splattered the pile of bones that remained in her wake. Flesh rematerialized in the sweep distance, leaving Jaina enough time to unsheathe her scythe and swirl around to assess her enemy. Hordes of demons whipped around and sniffed the air. Ash soaked into their oily, red scales like tar. One caught sight of her and cried out. It almost managed to smile. So did Jaina beneath her mask.

The demons bolted towards her on all fours, kicking up ash and scarring the earth with sword-like digits. A small army by the looks of it. Enough to wipe out several sleepy villages. Oh, the Burning Hells would need to send _a lot_ more than meager infantry if they wished to render horror in her heart.

She twirled her scythe in hand, the blade gleaming like an icicle fashioned within obsidian and bone. The tip scored the ground before her and the land rotted with a curse meant for the frail and dying. Or a blessing, for those who begged for mercy in their final breaths, but the demons never deserved a lick of it. Jaina held her breath and dropped into a defensive stance, scythe positioned by her side. Sadistic screams shot through the forest. They morphed to whimpers once they were close enough.

The scythe hummed with an upward thrust and a burst of blight expanded like a nova. The demons tripped and slowed, some trembling as poison sapped their blood. Jaina sprinted into the fray. Angered swipes failed to slow her. With each swing of her scythe, another layer of blight coated the demons and the ground they stood on. The moment several dropped dead, Jaina smirked.

Frost slicked her body. Cold breath seeped from her mask. The air froze and her blood pulsed. The scythe fell like a guillotine; the magic did the rest. Corpses exploded into frost-nipped bones fashioned like lances. They skewered one demon and morphed the remains into another weapon. Razor-sharp skewers zipped by until the screams died and unflinching bodies remained.

Except one.

The aura vanished from Jaina as she approached the whimpering creature. It struggled to stand, collapsing with each frantic attempt. Her slow steps tapered to a halt. She knelt opposite the demon and stared into its wide, empty sockets.

A pitiful cackle rattled through the demon. “You are too late, necromancer,” it hissed.

She never blinked. “Am I?”

It grinned, revealing thousands of needle-like teeth crammed together in that expansive maw. Big enough to accommodate someone her size, no doubt. “It’s already done. No use in trying to save the day. Unless you wish to add yourself to the death toll.”

“You seem quite certain of that.”

“You may be able to cheat death,” the demon snarled, “but _you_ cannot undo _this_.”

“Whoever said I came here to undo this death you speak of?”

The demon froze. Jaina grasped the creature’s chin and smirked.

“Besides, I don’t need _you_ alive to get what I need.”

She slit its throat. An abrupt, agonizing shriek fluttered out. Silence returned to the forest.

Jaina released a breath and her hold on the demon. It crumbled to a pool of gore. Essences of its soul, proof that it ever existed, swirled upwards like crimson ribbons. Jaina tangled them in her fingers and inhaled deep. Whatever scrapes and bruises graced her in the fight vanished, but it was the inklings of information she coveted—final thoughts and memories that lingered even after death.

It was there she found what she was looking for.

“Not much longer,” Jaina murmured. She propped her scythe upon a bone filigree pauldron, pivoted to the east, and marched.

 

* * *

 

No matter how many creatures crawled out from the depths of the Underworld, they met the same fate. Ice and corpses paved the way and Jaina’s steps never wavered. Blood stained the ashen earth while she sought for a spark of life within the desolate woods. Almost there. She had to be.

Another demon collapsed at her feet and dissolved to gore. Jaina inhaled its life essence, rejuvenated once more. But nothing sobered her better than the sight past the cresting hill.

She gasped. Her scythe slipped from her grasp. Wide eyes refused to blink despite the burn.

The delicate arches inlaid with gold dissolved to rubble. The vivid colors faded, marked with blood and soot. Bodies splayed across the walkways—more like beaten pulps than anything recognizable.

And when the whispers clawed into her ears to scream in her head, she nearly choked on her saliva. Jaina had convinced herself the one thoughtstrand from the demon was a quick lie before its imminent death, but if what the departed souls spoke was true….

She ran down to the ruined valley. Ash and dust suspended midair, uncaring for her desperate search. Shattered tiles shifted beneath her feet. Dead eyes gazed past her, the only proof anything had existed in this untouched land. Jaina spun around, gulping down dry air. Thousands of questions ricocheted inside her brain. All of which could be answered in due time. So long as he was alive.

He had to be. He _promised_.

Jaina recalled the path she walked as a naive student, eager to absorb her teacher’s knowledge. The ghosts of her past summoned tears for her to swallow down. All the splendor, all tucked away out of sight—gone. Not even a Priest of Rathma could realign the balance thrown asunder in this now forsaken space.

Branches and bone crunched beneath her heels as she rounded a corner. Again she paused and gasped. Silence greeted her, save for the frantic pulse of her heart living in her ears. A single breath could render her deaf to the most subtle of shifts. And she refused to move until she _knew_ what lied in the sweep distance was no longer alive.

No light illuminated the demolished space. The Sunwell’s basin cracked in half, one piece rolled over. Magic no longer flavored the air with its sweet and sour aroma; instead, an awful residue smeared the premise like a miasma. No promise of life or potential or anything worth savoring. Not even death. No, this was something _far_ worse. Death, at least, would have been kind.

Something stirred in her peripheral vision. Jaina sucked in air and stared. Rubble fell from a slumped figure. Red fabric peeked through—faded, yet familiar.

His name was but a squeak wriggling past her tight throat. It cracked the silence and echoed as her physical form blinked closer like a skipping stone. Jaina tripped over her feet and barely regained composure. She ripped the mask from her face and aimlessly chucked it. The world blurred to shadows until all that glimmered was the man she never stopped thinking of for a second.

Tears pooled in her glowing eyes. Fabric ripped as she skidded to her knees and enveloped him. Jaina buried her face in his neck, longing to inhale his scent and bask in his warmth. Barely a pulse fluttered in his veins. Alive, but not well. Several potions rattled in a belt pouch, which could wait until she was certain this was no illusion. She waited—for him to disappear in her arms, for the demons to sneak in and strike, for the world to end so she could join him if need be.

A frail, calloused hand brushed loose hair behind her ear. A murmur followed, “Jaina… so you came.”

She jerked back, blinded by tears and a vicious headache. Jaina sniffled and blinked it all away to see _him_. “Kael?”

Burns wrinkled his flawless skin and scars slashed his lovely face, but did little to elicit disgust within her. She mirrored his actions, pushing tousled blond locks aside. He fixed his heavy gaze to the broken floor. Dried blood caked his mouth, temples, and nostrils.

“Forgive me,” he strained to say, wincing with every breath. “I did not wish for you to see me like this… to see _any_ of this like… _this_.”

“Stop it,” she coughed up—both a command and a plea. “You have no reason to apologize.”

His lips quirked up. Did he chuckle? “If only that were true—”

“ _Hush_.” Jaina fumbled with the buckles latching her pouch shut. Crimson vials spilled out, one shattering. She uncorked one with trembling hands and rushed it to Kael’s parched lips. “Please. Drink this. It will help.”

The liquid flowed into his mouth until the contents emptied. Kael gasped upon finishing while Jaina discarded the empty vial, never daring to look away from him. It couldn’t heal the damage inflicted upon everything around them, but it smoothed out his shaking breaths. A step in the right direction.

“I came as soon as I received your letter,” she said, cupping his face in hopes to catch his eyes. Why did he refuse to look at her? “If I had known of a portal anchor, I could have used that… but no, that wouldn’t have smart, considering the nature of this—”

“You came,” Kael said, strength sapped from his tongue. “Whether or not you did so swiftly isn’t a factor. Knowing you’re here now? That speaks enough of your intentions.”

She wanted to laugh. Damn it, _anything_ to loosen the phantom iron maiden torturing her heart.

“But if I had been here sooner,” Jaina pressed on, “then I could have helped prevent—”

“The only way any of us could have prevented this tragedy was if we left the Sunwell alone to begin with.” Kael drew in a long, slow breath. “It was a matter of time before our magic failed to sustain this secret. History repeats itself and we were foolish to believe that we would be exceptions. The High Heavens and Burning Hells think little of us nephalem. They’d rather us fit perfectly in self-contained boxes than stray from our confinements with passion and curiosity guiding the way. Doesn’t matter if the intentions are just or malicious. It’s all the same to them.

“I cannot say how the angels found us.” Kael shook his head. “Does it matter? They were swift to judge us for knowledge they deemed as crimes. ‘You know not the wonders of creation and life.’ That’s what one of them said before murdering dozens with a swing of a blade. I couldn’t fight them even with the Sunwell at our disposal. None of us could. And the thought of the angels stealing the Sunwell for their own purposes… or to imprison it…. I couldn’t.” Kael curled into himself, sinking away from Jaina. “Of all the years—the millennia—spent researching in harmony… to have it taken away… no, I couldn’t. I _couldn_ _’t_.”

“Kael, what are you talking about?”

He paused, then finally, “We are pawns to no one. Not to the angels or demons. And if they don’t wish to share their knowledge with those they once swore to protect, then there is no reason it should exist for anyone.”

It didn’t click. Not immediately. When it did, the realization squeezed past her ribs like a steady, dull knife. Her mouth fell ajar, but the words clumped in her throat.

“Kael,” she whispered, fearing anything louder would shatter reality, “what did you do?”

The silence suffocated her.

“I manipulated the Sunwell,” Kael said, “folded it into itself until it collapsed and vanished. I destroyed it—for the sake of my people, for the sake of balance in Sanctuary.”

Tears dripped from her chin to splash her lap. She blinked and sat in a wondrous hall, flowing with magic and studies that put the Golden Era of Magic to shame. She sat with him next to that anomaly, the secret to eternal peace within Sanctuary. No more reliance on angels or demons; they could command their own fate for a change. Jaina believed as such, because _he_ believed it to be possible.

Then she blinked and sat next to the hollow shell of the man who inspired hope in her—who loved her. Nothing glimmered in the ruins. Whatever magic used to thrive in those decadent halls died alongside those who swore to channel it for a better future.

“The angels left after that,” Kael continued. “I was certain they would have finished us off, but now I understand why they didn’t. All those years spent beside the Sunwell… we understood it as a font of creation. How else were we to explain our expanded longevity? It never occurred to us that perhaps the Sunwell possessed more than boons. The angels knew. They had to. We were starved of the Sunwell’s energies within minutes. Surely we’d die from madness without it staining the air we breathe.” He paused. “But then the demons came.”

Kael lifted his chin and opened his eyes. An emerald glow emitted from that blank gaze. Jaina stared, denying the truth she found in the demon’s last thoughts, in the whispers of the departed.

In his very stare.

“The illusion lifted and they hunted us down,” Kael said. “They offered us an alternative.” Dry amusement lined his lips. “It was either die now or later. A deal with a demon doesn’t secure life—merely promises it will be a slow, painful process. More of a glorified pet or toy than any proper life, but….” Something wavered in those bright eyes. “I should have died alongside my peers. What is the point to life when freewill is banished? All our studies and progress… it was over. But I couldn’t.” He reached for Jaina, only to flinch away. “I needed to see you again. I _promised_ we would. I have reduced myself to a selfish coward and I am no longer the man who deemed himself worthy of your attention, but… one last time. I had to see you, to know you were well. Only then… maybe I could come to terms with the fate I’ve brought upon my people and myself.”

Words escaped Jaina. She focused on the green glow seeping from his sockets—a twisted, demonic taint reserved for those who traded their soul in return for warping fate’s design. In death, he belonged to the fiery creatures below. No one could undo that pact—not even a priest of Rathma.

“You’re not a coward,” Jaina whispered, inching closer to hold his face. “You did what you had to do.”

“Get by on borrowed time simply to see you for one last moment?”

She knitted her brows together. “Don’t speak like that. This is _not_ the last time, Kael.”

“You deserve better, Jaina. I should die with what dignity I have left and—”

“ _Stop_.”

Jaina rattled him until his tongue stilled. Breaths skipped in her lungs. Tears blurred her vision, but it failed to blind her to the man she promised more than her heart to.

“This isn’t the end, Kael,” Jaina said, a mix of exasperated and desperate. “Damn the High Heavens _and_ Burning Hells for leaving us helpless in this fucking world. How dare they look down upon us and consider themselves superior. You struck fear into the angels—the blasted _angels_ , Kael—and they saw you as a threat. How many can claim that throughout the ages? And the demons… well, I’m only sorry that I hadn’t beat them to you.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me how I was then.”

Jaina cracked a smirk. “Too bad. I wanted to see the man who secretly sent me love letters by way of ethereal familiars. I wanted to see the man who inspired me to do more for Sanctuary than study old tomes and follow dated rules.” Her thumb smoothed over his cheekbone. “No amount of blood or burns or curses would have scared me away.”

Still he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m destined to die now. If not from withdrawals of the Sunwell, then by some sadistic beast’s own amusement. I wasn’t the only one, you know. A handful of others begged to create a pact in order to sustain life. I convinced them to leave, said I had to salvage whatever I could here, but… death is all that awaits us. The Sunwell is destroyed, the angels care not for our false immortality, and the demons are grinning.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Hardly the time to do so, is it not?” He closed his eyes, as if breathing alone exhausted and pained him. “Though if I were to say farewell, then I suppose to die by the hands of a lovely priest such as yourself isn’t so terrible.”

Her heart raced until it dared to burst from her chest. “Kael….”

“I’m no expert in the ways of the necromancy, but I know your kind are far less malevolent than the public makes you out to be. Anything that disrupts the balance of life and death… it must be set back to its natural order. Balance the scales, realign the proper flow. That’s why you are here, correct? Your keeper wouldn’t have allowed you to slip from your confines on the premise of pleasure. My own desperate notes weren’t enough to instill treason; you were given a task and I am your target. Besides, you’d be doing both myself and your kin a favor by ridding me from this—”

“No.”

Quivering hands slid down his neck and gripped his shoulders. Jaina propped her forehead against his. Blue and green light mixed together while locks of white and blond intermixed and framed their faces.

“Need I remind you,” Jaina whispered, “that you sent me to the necromancers with a single mission. You said it yourself; you’re no expert on the matter and you had me become the knowledge you couldn’t touch. I have blended with the Priests of Rathma as best as I could. I have learned nearly as many secrets in my time with them as I have under your wise tutelage. And if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everything within the planes of existence _lives_. Perhaps they’re not sentient as you and I are, but the earth we walk, the air we breathe, the magic we weave… it’s alive, Kael. And life _cannot_ be destroyed. It may end, yes, but it is always repurposed into something new.” She scrunched up her face. “How many legends have there been of Diablo returning from the dead in a new form?”

Kael blinked, searching her face for an answer. The silence said enough.

“The Sunwell may be gone for now,” she continued, “but not for good. If you’ve had enough patience to study it for all these damn years, then what’s another decade or two searching for the fragments it might have splintered off into?”

He hesitated, lips parting and closing several times until the right words surfaced. “But the demons… they’ve marked me. I belong to them now. There’s no undoing that.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “Fuck the demons, Kael. If they come for you—”

“ _When_.”

“Whatever. The point is I won’t let them have you. I will fight them off day after day if I have to. And if they drag you down to the Burning Hells… then I guess I’ll have to make a special trip to bring you back, won’t I? Might have a few choice words with whichever idiot thought it was a brilliant idea to bargain with your soul.” She nuzzled into his face, lips brushing over his. A chill raced over her skin until she gasped. “You do know only demons can null the contracts they make, right?”

“I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in that kind of danger.”

Past the tears and heartache, laughter bubbled from Jaina. “A little too late for that now, Kael. Besides, you forget who you’re talking to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”

“Mmm. I’m next in line to be Deathspeaker, but I abandoned that opportunity to be next to you.”

Before he could speak—to interject, to question, to do anything—Jaina eased into him for a hard kiss. The demonic taint prickled her tongue, but it was that gentle purr from Kael which flooded her skin with goosebumps. She longed to consume as one did with water after stranded in a desert for years. She wished to memorize the movements of his lips drinking her in sip by sip. She ached to trace his body and rediscover him with more experienced hands and fresh eyes.

Not now. At least not here. She wasn’t about to be whisked away from his protection to an unknown land. Where they went now… Jaina didn’t know. So long as it was beside him, nothing else mattered. And she’d damn well make sure both the angels and demons didn’t forget the likes of Jaina Proudmoore if they dared to cross her path.

Gently and reluctantly breaking the kiss, Jaina licked her lips and exhaled a coo. “I’m not leaving you, Kael, and I sure as hell am not ending your life. Besides, did you forget what you told me once?” She smoothed a thumb over his mouth. “You’re a phoenix. You always rise again.”

He opened his eyes once more, almost donning the smug, yet profound face she came to admire. “That’s quite a target you’ve opted to paint on your back, _dalah'surfal_.”

Jaina shrugged. “Yeah, well… I never said it would be easy, but it’s what feels right.”

“Helping a man fool both the High Heavens and Burning Hells alike?”

“No. Staying with the one I love.” She dropped her hand in search of his. Bone armor intermixed with bare skin until they locked. “Until the End of Times.”

Kael stared at her. The corner of his mouth curled. He squeezed back. “Until the End of Times.”


	4. Chapter 4

They found the others not far from ground zero. Frail bodies huddled together, trembling out of fear of what they witnessed and became. A collection of glowing, green eyes lifted to meet their leader mounted on a skeletal steed alongside a necromancer. Hesitation lined their faces, but the doubt faded away when Jaina offered a gentle hand to them.

“Where do we go now?” one of them asked.

Kael’s people looked to him. He cast his gaze to the sullen earth. Jaina sought his hand, fingertips grazing his palm. A reminder that they were alive, _together_. All else would fall into place, even if the details eluded them.

“Somewhere safe,” Kael eventually said. “Quiet and remote. For now. We can adjust our plans after some much-needed rest.”

Nobody argued with him. Not verbally. Several lingered on him before narrowing onto Jaina. She kept her head held high without a flinch. Unlike mages, Priests of Rathma were more apt on their actions speaking for themselves than empty, frivolous promises. That reminder alone sent an unwanted chill through her bones until she hitched her breath.

“Is everything alright?” Kael asked when they resumed traveling, lingering behind with Jaina.

“As well as they can be,” she muttered, slowing her steps until a sweep distance separated them from any keen ears. “Demons and angels aren’t the only horrors we should be worried about.”

“No?” He cocked his head, though his muscles didn’t tighten from the revelation. “What other enemies did you make along the way, _dalah'surfal_?”

A bitter smirk pained her lips. “The very ones who once deemed me an ally.” She drew in a breath, though it did little to ease the growing tension in her shoulders. “They wanted me to destroy everything. And if I did… I had no intentions of returning. That alone is grounds for a sentence worse than death.”

They held eye contact until Kael scoffed and smirked. “Might as well make matters more complicated, now that all has gone to hell. At least we won’t be bored.”

He widened his stride to return with the others. Jaina stayed behind to bask in a rare smile. Neither angels nor demons nor necromancers could deprive her of such a joy.

No road guided them on their journey; Kael memorized the subtleties in the expansive forest and led the way. Trees and ash gave way to dead grass and stagnant swamps. A chill resided in the thick, humid air—perhaps another effect from the Sunwell’s violent departure from Sanctuary. Grey skies bled crimson to give way to a fiery sunset. Pillars of light struck through foliage and blinded all who walked in its path. Jaina raised an arm to shield herself from the rays, almost missing the hamlet creeping up from the horizon.

Farmers wrangled livestock into meager barns that kept a stiff breeze out more so than any monster lurking in the bogs. Rows of rotten vegetables lined the path to their homes. Flies swarmed the area, eager to consume whatever was discarded. Nothing but death stained the air.

Wary glances followed the group as they approached the hamlet. Jaina met those stares, a mixed bag of curiosity, anxiety, and outright anger. What stories did these common folks tell their young about pale figures with bright blue eyes? Would they point at _her_ and say she was to blame for their poor harvest? Or maybe they knew of the green hue which marked the mages she escorted. If the failed crops and starved cattle weren’t a sign, then maybe the demonic pact wandering into their measly establishment was.

Doors and windows closed once they arrived in the hamlet’s center. A few brave souls approached them, cowering as if they witnessed gods. Kael spoke on everyone’s behalf; he always had a gift with words. Jaina fell in love with that tongue before it ever stroked her sensitive neck. A pleasant shiver teased her thighs. She bit her lip and quietly berated herself. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking such thoughts.

But there was no denying that tongue of his did wonders. It convinced the townsfolk they meant no harm and wished to spend a night if they had adequate accommodations. Their attention returned to Jaina, the spitting image of a harbinger of death from her frozen scythe to her skeletal mask.

“No harm, huh?” a villager coughed up. “And what of that one?” A chin jerked in Jaina’s direction. “Looks like Diablo himself sent his personal ward if you ask me.”

Kael tilted his head. “Have you never seen a Priest of Rathma before?”

Jaina shifted her weight to a single leg and perched a loose fist upon her hip. “I am the least of your problems.”

“And whatever problems should occur, heavens forbid,” Kael continued, his voice smoother than silk and wine, “I assure you _she_ will take care of them.”

His charisma didn’t relax those wary faces, but the questions died out and the doors opened for them to retreat for the night. All else could wait until morning.

The tavern was better suited for the locals than it was for travelers with just enough seats for regular patrons and no one else. Between two cramped tables, they crowded around to share warm ale, stale bread, and over salted meats. A far cry from the grand halls in the Yshari Sanctum. The Necropolis’ modest quarters in hindsight seemed fit for royalty in comparison. None of them uttered a word despite what their faces screamed; survival morphed necessities into luxuries until they forgot what it was like to breathe easy.

Jaina brought her attention to Kael whenever she washed down the bread with her drink. She recalled what he told her back in those ruins. He gambled with demons to ensure he saw her again, even if it meant sacrificing himself shortly after. All those years spent apart…. Elegant words kept them together and nothing else. No spoken reminders of their affection, no physical bodies to touch, no way to tell for certain if their bond persisted outside of each letter arriving like clockwork. She wouldn’t have faulted him if his interests strayed from her; she was but a scratch along the years he existed. Something else—or some _one_ —might have caught his eye. She distracted him, after all. It was possible.

And when their eyes met in that quiet lull between bites and sips, Jaina forgot to breathe. The Sunwell might have been no more, but he looked to her as if it persisted within her soul.

Crumbs scattered across their plates while mugs gradually emptied. Sparse candlelight illuminated the tavern. Locals quietly watched from their own corner as the mage survivors murmured of where to go to next come morning. Several mentioned Caldeum, partially due to the Yshari Sanctum, though also because a group of demon-tainted mages was the least of the city’s problems considering their last emperor’s true identity. Others mentioned heading eastward in search of the old bloodlines who once comprised of the former Mage Clans. Kehjistan’s separation from recent events in Sanctuary tilted in their favor in regards to securing an ally. A tenuous pact, but a connection, nonetheless.

Kael opted for silence. Idle fingertips traced his mug’s rim, sights elsewhere or lingering upon Jaina. She stilled her tongue and sat straight on her uneven stool. This was not her battle to fight, despite Kael’s assurance years ago that she was valuable to the cause. She didn’t witness the atrocities the angels sentenced them to; who was she to stand in solidarity with them when she bore no trauma of her own? Wherever they decided to venture to, however, Jaina followed. That much was certain.

 _Nothing will ever separate us again,_ she mused while catching Kael’s lovely gaze once more. _Even in death, I will find you. In another life, in another world—I promise._

Yawns spread across the table until they agreed to retire for the night. The barkeeper led them to the few rooms available upstairs—emergency quarters for the occasional drunk who couldn’t stumble home instead of weary travelers. Jaina hadn’t shared a room with others since her days in the Yshari Sanctum. Sleeping on the floor with a thin pad separating her from moldy floors wasn’t ideal, either. Again she held her tongue, reminding herself of the small pleasures which glimmered in pitch black.

Though when the barkeep ambled further down the hall and Kael tugged her away from the packed room she resigned herself to, Jaina almost tripped over her own feet. She shot Kael a quizzical glare. He never humored her with so much as a smirk. At the end was a space twice the size of the storage rooms acting as sleeping quarters. A desk hugged a wall with a bed flush against the other. Bare, yet lived in. Adequate room for two people to settle in for the night.

“For the young ones,” the barkeeper muttered. “Damned hamlet is small as it is. Hard to do anything private without everyone sticking their bloody noses in it.” He huffed. “They pay up and I keep my mouth shut. We all get something out of it, yeah?”

Blush warmed her pale cheeks. Was this what she _thought_ it was?

Kael thanked the man with a small, yet stuffed pouched. He rolled it in his palms, the distinct clink of gold leaving him with a smile. Something was said about the place—or was it the situation they aligned themselves in?—but Jaina paid no attention to the barkeeper. Only when the door shut behind him and ensured she and Kael were alone did Jaina remember to breathe.

She indulged in his letters as if they were gourmet truffles from Caldeum’s boutiques while her peers practiced non-attachment; the less of an emotional bond a Priest of Rathma had with life, the more clearly they saw the world for what it truly was. She didn’t need to hide, anymore—didn’t need to pretend. And yet….

“You… didn’t need to do this, Kael.” She placed her mask on the desk. “I don’t require special treatment just because—”

Arms enveloped Jaina from behind. Her breath caught. Tender lips eased into the crook of her neck to savor each chill vibrating through her. And those hips sinking in her rear… well, if his actions didn’t make his intentions clear, that pronounced bulge searing against her did.

“I don’t need to do many things,” Kael purred, one hand stroking the dip of her waist and the other tracing up her sternum, “but I do so, because _you_ deserve something far grander than praise.”

Her heart skipped countless beats. She closed her eyes and melted into him. “Do I, now?”

A hint of amusement escaped Kael. “Must I remind you of how you left the Sanctum, yet never left my thoughts?”

“Hmm… perhaps. I may have forgotten.”

Kael grinned into her neck. So did she.

“I feared you would have forgotten me in our absence,” he confessed, planting kisses on the way up to her ear. “Though it didn’t outweigh the fear of revealing your true intentions in the Necropolis. I would have written you hourly if possible.”

“You wouldn’t worry about running out of things to say to me?”

“Why would I? I’d invent new words and spells if necessary.”

She licked her lips and tilted her head to align with his face. “I missed you,” Jaina whispered, inches away from a kiss.

“As did I. Perhaps far too much.”

“Does such a thing exist?”

His lips quirked up, ghosting over her own. “For all the moments I wish to share with you throughout a lifetime and only a night to express them? Then yes.”

“We will have more than this night, Kael.”

“Maybe… but I will treat every night as our last if it will make up for the years lost in your absence.”

Jaina snickered. “I don’t think I’ll complain about that.”

“Splendid. I didn’t think you would.”

He barely finished his sentence. Jaina crushed her mouth against his until they purred in unison. Their bodies shifted and connected, arms wrapped tight around each other to stay close, to keep one another stable, to remember this was no illusion crafted by delirium. Hips rolled together. Tongues flicked out to taste the fire and ice living in their veins. Something desperate, yet tender. She wasn’t a young, naive lady getting a quick fix before she left his side; she was a woman—an equal—who wished for nothing more than to remind him she never dared forget him for a second.

And the sentiment was mutual, if Kael’s actions were any proof. He tugged at the bone armor still adorning her form, slipping curious fingers between the folds to tease the pronounced curves of her body. A moan squeezed out of him while he sunk teeth into her lower lip and tugged back.

“You,” he murmured, a seductive note moistening his lips, “have filled out quite nicely.”

Heat graced her cheeks. “Have I?”

“Mmm. The mages loved gossip of how the necromancers starved themselves thin to mimic their bonds with the skeletons they fashioned as weapons and armor, but _you_ , _dalah'surfal_?” Kael leaned away briefly to sweep his gaze over her. Jaina swore that look alone was like fingertips brushing every inch of her body. “You are anything _but_ that.”

Before she replied with a quip of her own, Kael’s lips returned to Jaina, devouring her with a new hungry that radiated through her own core. She gasped in between kisses from the roaming hands groping her, a perpetual smirk cemented on her features. Blood boiled within Jaina. How often had she daydreamed of those very hands unable to pry away from her? She didn’t need a fantasy to satiate her desires anymore. Neither of them did.

Kael whispered foreign chants along her exposed skin. Arcane tendrils wove through her armor, unclasped each piece with care, and reassembled it on an invisible mannequin. She shivered beneath his touch, chewing her lip to tide herself over until the layers of linen and leather that separated them were no more. Unlike their time in his study, Kael never tore away her attire; he unraveled Jaina like a gift, cherishing every delicate fold and embellishment.

Fingertips danced across the small of her back. Kisses lined the path from her navel to her breasts. A warm tongue caressed her nipples, already stiff from anticipation before she stripped her top. Jaina clung to his head, combed matted locks with quivering fingers, and released sounds her own hand couldn’t replicate on herself.

Again his mouth returned to hers. Again he dared to suffocate her with a mixture of lust and adoration. Magic coated their tongues as they submerged into one another; Jaina recalled a taste akin to smoke in each of his kisses, but the fire was now kindled by demonic means. Perhaps any sane person would have been repulsed by the notion alone. But sanity was in short supplies in Sanctuary and Jaina hadn’t regarded herself as anything normal since she arrived at the Yshari Sanctum.

And the way he gazed upon her icy eyes, her snow-white hair, and her cool, pale complexion—all a mark of her allegiance to Rathma’s cause. Disgust didn’t wrinkle Kael’s face. Merely a curl of his lips and nothing more. Jaina couldn’t ask for anything better than that.

Even when she clawed his robes and forced them out of the way, her hands didn’t hesitate at the scars littering his skin. Jaina aimlessly flung fabric, like how he disrobed her, albeit with less arcane showmanship. Her motions slowed, but never hiccupped. Intricate marks branded him like fissures carving through the earth. All the same emerald hue of his eyes. As if the demons hadn’t done plenty of damage.

“I’m sorry you must see me like this,” Kael said, the seductive nature sapped by sadness. “I wish our reunion had been on better terms.”

Jaina flicked her eyes over him. She stepped into Kael, open palms sneaking up his chest to loop around his neck and nuzzle into his face. Once he lifted his head to meet her, she kissed him. Tender and slow motions, as if he were glass.

“Better to have you as you are than not at all,” Jaina whispered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He smiled. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Well… that romp on your desk when we were still in the Sanctum left quite an impression.”

Now he grinned—a genuine one, at that. “You filthy little girl.”

“Oh hush. You loved it.”

“Still do.”

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on using the bed for sleep any time soon.”

They grasped for one another, smothering each other in kisses until their lungs begged for air. She savored the heat shared between them, bodies crushed together with curious hands rediscovering what was forgotten. Jaina teased the hem of his pants and Kael returned the gesture in kind. To know every action and reaction of his was her doing… that in of itself aroused her enough to come undone in his arms right then and there.

The pants slipped from his waist with ease. So did his cock into her hand. Jaina nibbled his lower lip and moaned, basking in the throbbing heat heavy in her palm. Her breathes skittered into a moan; Kael dove into her own pants to curl into her clit. More blissful shivers rattled her bones while she grinned. She squeezed and caressed him. He teased and stroked her. Blood pumped in their hearts out of sync. They melted further into one another until they stumbled to the bed waiting for them.

It could have been the desk or the floor or the wall for all Jaina cared. So long as it was a flat surface able to withstand their antics, what else mattered at the moment?

She loomed over Kael, kicking her pants aside to better straddle him. Kael propped himself up on his elbows to meet Jaina halfway. A tender embrace welcomed her as they sank into the mattress together. The endless years spent touch starved… if only she could simultaneously slow down and speed up. His letters and her imagination tided her over in the loneliest of nights, but none of it compared to his lips on her neck, his hands along her spine, his hard-on against her clit. She wished to drink after an extended dry spell, even if it meant risking her sobriety. Kael was worth it. He always was.

Her moans cracked into a whimper upon finally sinking down onto him. Muscles tensed and relaxed beyond her control. Fire licked her icy veins until both coexisted in a decadent thrum she had long forgotten. Kael held Jaina close, face nuzzling into hers, and quietly waited for her lead.

She opened her eyes and smiled when she found his green gaze nowhere but on her. Once their bodies adjusted and their breaths evened out, Jaina resumed movement and welcomed the flood of pleasure consuming them both.

The mattress groaned beneath their weight and ardent motions. The air thickened, almost choking Jaina, though did little to hinder her wanton desires. She clung to his shoulders just as he sunk fingers into her rear. He sucked her nipples until they swelled further. She parted her mouth and licked her lips, a constant array of erotic sounds cascading out with no promise of quietness. Anything to assist with her fucking him until exhaustion finally claimed them.

To feel him inside of her again. To gaze down and see him mirroring her own expression. To finally indulge in him without the need for secrecy. Jaina smirked at the revelation. What wasn’t there to love?

“You,” Kael purred into her neck after dragging his tongue across her skin, “are better than I remembered.”

“And what,” she managed to squeak out, breathless, “did you remember about me?”

A moan and chuckle mixed together into something which aroused her more than she thought it would. “A mischievous, yet eager young student.” He playfully bit her neck until she gasped. “So bright and full of potential, but now?” He brought his eyes to Jaina. “I feel more like the student, truth be told.”

Jaina trembled, both from his words and his hips thrusting into her. “Well… I _did_ have an excellent teacher myself.”

“I’ll do my best to keep up.”

His hips met with hers, the sharp sensation drawing Jaina’s gasping lips into a smirk. “Not to worry… I have some tricks of my own.”

“Oh?”

She nuzzled into his face with a devious look. “Did you forget us priests help restore life when it has been sapped?”

Whatever mental image that painted in Kael’s mind warranted a pause in his actions. Jaina bit back the need to grin; so he _was_ capable of blushing.

“Until then,” Jaina purred, picking up the pace he dropped, “let’s see if you _can_ keep up.”

Blue eyes fell shut as she delighted in him. Lust coated every action, the once steady rhythm trembling by its foundations the closer she inched to that elusive ecstasy. Finally, she could share it with him once more. No need to pleasure themselves in solitude—not when they had each other’s company.

She whimpered and buried her face in his neck. Her clit brushed along his abdomen, enough friction to tease her into a decadent frenzy. Jaina gulped down dense air. Goosebumps tickled her skin. His name rolled on her tongue. _So close,_ she wanted to say, too breathless to form anything coherent.

He groaned beneath her, clutching her hips still. Several more wild bucks and he slowed to stillness. Jaina whined and wiggled her hips; as delicious as it was to feel him come undone within her, the abrupt lack of attention snapped every nerve.

Before she lifted her head to protest, Kael whispered into her skin—that foreign language, his native tongue. Magic imbued the simple incantation. It fluttered down her spine like millions of heated kisses. It swirled around her hips until she swore another set of hands gripped her. Until another thick cock pumped inside of her.

Jaina collapsed to all fours with a delighted squealed. Kael smoothed a hand over her head as moans flooded the room. From the corner of her vision, she caught a perfect mirror image of Kael picking up where they left off. Jaina smiled and nuzzled further into his embrace.

“Like that?” Kael murmured along her ear.

She struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. “Harder. Please….”

He chuckled and whispered more arcane commands. The mirror image obeyed and Jaina moaned effortlessly. She arched into Kael, unable to contain herself. Part of her wished he had pulled a similar stunt back in the Yshari Sanctum. _That_ would have kept her mentally occupied for months to come. The thought of being bent over his desk left her shivering. Perhaps she could have sucked him off while his illusion fucked her like that. Or maybe he would have preferred to watch and give her a show while he stroked himself.

The mere possibility was but a spark to a tinderbox. One more stroke to fill her and she screamed. Every muscle erupted in flames, only to be quenched by a refreshing burst of ice. She basked in the sensation while she unraveled in Kael’s arms, nothing but a squirming bundle of blissful mewls. Her pulse slowed, her breaths lengthened, and the lustful fog lifted. Jaina licked her lips and brought her face to meet Kael’s.

“You didn’t tell me you could do _that_ ,” Jaina said, mustering her remaining strength to speak.

Kael smirked, combing sweat-coated hair out of her face. “You’re not to only one with tricks up your sleeves.”

“I hope that’s not _all_ you can do.”

He raised a curious eyebrow. “Do you have a request?”

She glanced behind; the mirror image kissed her thighs and caressed her lower back. “I might have several ideas.”

“Several?”

“Plenty to keep us occupied for tonight, anyways.”

“How about you enlighten me with this supposed necromancy trick of yours first?”

A sly smile tugged at Jaina’s lips. She slipped out of Kael’s arms, much to her twitching body’s dismay. Crawling down, she kissed the lean muscles paving the way to her destination. Frosty breath seeped from her mouth on every exhale, mentally chanting the spell she fashioned for such an occasion years ago.

Her tongue lapped the length of his arousal, still semi-stiff from their recent romp. The attention no doubt stirred him to life, but it was the quiet spell she cast over him which sealed the intention. Her blue eyes flicked up to Kael as her lips teased the tip. He drew in a breath and exhaled a moan.

“Well aren’t you a crafty, little minx,” he said.

She smiled, albeit briefly, and purred a response before fully occupying her mouth, “I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

An orange glow peeked through the thin slits aspiring to be windows in the room. The light splashed over Jaina’s face until she winced and rolled over. Sheets tangled in her legs and the bed groaned with the movement. A warm body greeted her. Tired eyes pried open to find Kael half buried in a deflated pillow. Blond hair stuck to the beads of sweat scattered about his nude form.

Jaina cracked a smile and snuggled in closer. She brushed fingertips up his side, remembering how she clung to him throughout the witching hours and pleaded for more. Her muscles seared with an agony she didn’t know existed—a delicious, welcomed agony. As much as she damned the concept of sleep that night, they both earned their share of rest, no matter how brief.

Upon reaching his jawline, Jaina stilled herself; a green glow caught in the curtain of gold veiling his face. He turned into her hand, kissed her palm, and held it to his cheek.

“Morning,” Jaina murmured, her thumb idly stroking his skin.

Kael smiled back. “Good morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Best I’ve had in centuries.” He tugged Jaina in to capture her in a tender embrace. “A certain someone did a marvelous job at exhausting me.”

She withheld a giggle. “Is that so?”

“Mmm… if I’m ever struck with insomnia in the near future, I may need to request a repeat performance.”

“I might be able to arrange that.” She bumped her nose into his. “The feelings mutual, you know.”

“Oh?”

Recollection flooded her until a sigh trembled past her smiling lips. “If you have any other tricks you wish to try with me, I’d be an eager test subject.”

Kael coughed up laughter. “Had I known you were _that_ insatiable, I would have come better prepared.”

“Four copies of yourself desperately trying to get me off over and over seemed _plenty_ prepared to me.”

“I could have done better.”

Jaina blushed and cackled. “Then humor me—what would you have done differently?”

Kael cocked an eyebrow. “I’m privy to several spells which amplify other spells, though I’d need to do some research to convert them into enchantments to ensure they _won_ _’t_ cause harm.”

“I’m not opposed to a little pain.”

Both eyebrows perked up. “Then in that case—” He shifted with a visible flinch as he repositioned himself over Jaina. “—I should have cast something to keep you tied up and unable to come until I deemed suitable.”

She spread her legs for him, wrapping them loosely around his hips. “What’s stopping you now?”

Kael silenced her with a deep, yet tender kiss. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s _you_ I should fear more than the demons. At this rate, you’ll be the death of me.”

“I won’t let you die.” Jaina teased his lips with her tongue. “I’ll make sure of that.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I know.” Kael paused, eyes distant, as if lost in thought. “I won’t let anything happen to you, either. Even in this weakened form, I will fight until my dying breath for you.”

Tears dared to fall down her face. Her heart thumped for a new reason. Kael’s letters paled in comparison to the sensation swelling in her now after hearing that kind, gentle vow.

“As would I,” she whispered, hugging and kissing him.

Each kiss banished whatever doubt lingered. He hadn’t replaced her. He hadn’t forgotten her. Only Jaina dwelled in his heart. No demon or angel could sever that bond.

Their mouths opened for one another. Gentle, lazy coos oozed between them. Jaina wiggled her hips in hopes to entice him. With that hard-on rubbing against her, it was only a matter of time before he pinned her against the bed until she cried for him.

Someone else screamed before her—a pained, muffled sound lost echoing in the distance. Then another one. And again.

Both froze and focused on the origin. Orange light danced across her eyes. She grimaced, then gasped; it wasn’t the sunrise—it was fire.

Neither exchanged a word. Kael rolled away and Jaina vaulted out of bed, sheets dropping to the floor. Stagnant air kissed her bare skin. With a quick chant and invisible runes traced midair, Kael reanimated her armor. The suspended display unraveled and swirled about Jaina, outfitting her layer by layer. She flexed her fingers as the bone gloves slipped on last and collected her scythe and mask from the desk.

“I thought we would have had more time,” Kael muttered, reclaiming his discarded attire. “This will prove to be more difficult than I imagined.”

Jaina tilted her head. “When were _you_ ever one to ignore a challenge?”

He cracked a short-lived smile. “Perhaps if circumstances tilted more in our favor, I’d be inclined to do so.”

“But they aren’t.” She approached him, bone greaves tromping across the wooden floorboards. “Nor will they ever be, but I’d rather keep it that way than live a life without you at all.” Jaina hooked her scythe to her belt and reached up to caress his sharp cheek. “Remember that. I know this isn’t easy, but I _promise_ you, Kael, that we’ll find a way to fix this. And we’ll do it together. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

After a deep breath, he nodded. “I know. Forgive me, it’s still… a tremendous amount to take in.”

Jaina stepped into him to share a tight hug. “So long as I stand, nothing will harm you, Kael.”

“I’m rather _impressed_ you were able to stand after last night—”

“Oh _hush_.” Jaina whacked his shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“I am many things,” Kael said, flashing a grin, “but awful wasn’t one of the many descriptors you used the other night.”

She blushed. “You _know_ what I mean. Standing, alive, whatever. Same difference.”

He nodded. “I’m aware.”

“You’re safe with me.”

“As are you by my side, Jaina.” Kael dipped down to bestow a gentle, yet drawn-out kiss to her. “Shall we?”

A final inhale and Jaina nodded, pivoted away, secured her mask, and marched out the door.

Smoke stung her eyes and obscured the path. Kael murmured from behind and a spring breeze rolled through to clear the air. It failed to damper the horrors echoing elsewhere. More screams vibrated in the tavern’s foundations. Dread lined each plea for mercy and help. They were all silenced by the time Jaina reached the stairs. She caught sight of Kael in his trousers while checking on his people in their respective rooms. At least they stilled lived. What else mattered? All of Sanctuary could burn if it meant keeping them safe.

Jaina chuckled. Oh, how refreshing it was to no longer hide away her intentions and sentiments. She imagined Deathspeaker Xul screaming over the revelation of where her true allegiances lied. Or perhaps not screaming—more like quiet annoyance over a gut feeling turned truth. Maybe he knew the whole time, gave her a head start to her heresy. The priests would be after her in due time; the demons simply beat them to it. For now.

The staircase ended halfway down, nothing but blazing embers eating charred wood. Fresh smoke curled past Jaina as she leapt to the ground floor. What had once been tables and a bar was simply fodder for wayward flames. Glass scattered across the floor, reflecting the fires like diamonds. The door dangled from its hinges. Jaina headed there and stared.

What wasn’t succumbing to the wildfire was already reduced to ash and rubble. Blood soaked the ground and air alike with dismantled organs strung through the ruins. It was those terrified whispers, however, which chilled Jaina’s soul. Lives ripped away sooner than expected made for confused and fearful spirits. They opted to linger where they once resided, unable to pass peacefully to the next plane—their new home. Time would tell if those lost souls would dissolve into vengeful ghosts. For now, they wailed.

For now, they would do.

Jaina steadied her breaths and wielded her scythe. The icy blade hummed with each sweeping arc while she recalled the ritual. A fundamental all Priests of Rathma had to be acquainted with to ever bear the title, yet simplicity in of itself was a complicated task. The motions of her scythe, the cadence in her command, and her frozen posture—all of it had to be perfect. Even a rogue necromancer knew that.

The final words left her tight lips, the scythe swung down, and the incantation completed. A cool gust expanded from Jaina, rolling across the forsaken hamlet. Frost nipped at the corpses covered in gore. Lifeless eyes stared into nothing. One by one, a blue glow brightened those eyes. One by one, they stumbled to their feet, flesh and organs melting away to reveal a horde of skeletons at her disposal.

Hundreds of skeletons scurried their way to crowd around the tavern and protect Jaina, scooping up stray farming equipment, splintered wood, and rubble to brandish as weapons. She scanned the desolate premise and furrowed her brow.

“If your plan is to scare me with your pathetic attempt at stealth,” Jaina said, raising her voice to boom past the crackling flames, “you best drop the disappearing act and _get on with it_.”

Nothing. Not at first. The air rippled like water as the illusion faded. Countless demons perched on burning trees and buildings. Triple-fold squeezed down the mud-cobbled streets. Grotesque maws bore fangs and grins in her direction. Diving through the billows of smoke were their winged kin, circling above like vultures until they blotted the overcast skies.

“What an amusing army you have of your own, _necromancer_.” One of the winged demons—a lithe creature with disproportionate limbs twice the length of a human’s—plummeted to tower Jaina, even on the ground. “Truly you must know that the only pathetic individual here is _you_. Your reanimations alone aren’t enough to win against us.”

Each skeleton raised their respective weapon, jaws chattering to thwart the unflinching demon. Jaina never blinked, only clenching her scythe tighter. “ _Your_ kind slaughtered all of them. If anything, you did me a favor. Or did you forget already that you were to be dealing with a Priest of Rathma, as well?”

The demon cackled. At least that was one way to describe the terrible trill rolling from its belly. “Our business does not include you, necromancer. You are but another pesky fly to swat, no different from these mortals you now use as your personal army.”

“And if your business still includes one Kael’thas Sunstrider, then it most certainly includes me, for I _refuse_ —” She twirled her scythe in her hand and dropped into a defensive stance. So did every skeleton. “—to let you come near him. Not without facing me first.”

Another horrific sound trickled out of the demon, something akin to a rusty blade dragging across metal. “You are quite the joke, necromancer.”

“Please, if we’re going to keep running into each other—”

“How presumptuous of you to expect to _live_.”

“Not as presumptuous of _you_ to think someone in line to become the next Deathspeaker is incapable of tormenting every last one you in death and beyond.”

Only the flames crackled. Jaina smirked.

“So if you would be so kind and remember my name, then perhaps whichever of the Seven Evils sent all of you will think twice when preparing a welcoming parade for me.”

The demon narrowed its focus onto her. “None of the Seven Evils will bother to remember the likes of you.”

Her physical body vanished. Flesh rematerialized before the demon. A single strike and it was over. The blight nova exploded from the demon’s skull and spread throughout the hamlet. All its allies cowered at the sight of Jaina pinning the miserable creature to the ground, scythe lodged into its head and down its throat, one hand gripping the tangible thread of its life essence.

“It’s Jaina Proudmoore,” she said. “Make sure it echoes through every chamber of the Burning Hells.”

A flick of her wrist and the life essence snapped. The demon choked on its own blood, squirming beneath her to savor whatever life remained. Cold eyes regarded the gurgling creature until it stilled at her feet. She removed her scythe, flicked it clean of blood, and brought her attention to the rest of the demons.

“Now then.” She perched her scythe upon her shoulder and cocked her head. “Where were we?”

One shrieked from the ground and rushed her. Jaina didn’t flinch, her skeletons already joining her side to foil the single demon. Her fluttered her eyes, however, at the flash of emerald fire whizzing by her head. The fireball crashed into the demon, exploding on contact. It crumbled into a whimpering mess of charred flesh and bones, dead before reaching her skeleton horde.

“Careful, Jaina.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Glancing back to the tavern, she drank in the sight that was Kael. He discarded the ratty robes she found him in, opting for the simple, crimson trousers, boots, and a doublet he never bothered to fully button. Where exactly he procured such a garment was beyond her, but she knew better than to question Kael’s knack of fabricating anything out of nothing. He stood refreshed, his hair tamed into a sleek, low ponytail draped over his shoulder. Several strands loosened from their confines to sweep across his smirking face. Perhaps not the distinguished image of the mage she came to admire and love, but it was a look she could acclimate to. Even with those green brands peeking out from beneath his doublet and the three green flames circling his form.

He commanded no skeletal army, but his kin stepped forward to join him. Magic flickered to life in their palms, an impressive array of the elements from the treacherous seas to the stormy skies. The demonic taint colored their spells, but did little to waver their resolve; if Kael defied his fate, then they would follow.

Kael gathered a floating flame into his palm to roll into another fireball. “Can’t let you have all the fun, after all.”

She swore he winked at her. She wanted to laugh, to run up and kiss him. Maybe when the demons were corpses and the fires smoldered out. Until then, she confronted the demon army—the Burning Hell’s laughable try at dragging back what didn’t belong to the Evils—and assessed the situation.

There was going to be blood. _A lot_ of blood. None of which would be hers or Kael’s or his brethren. But that was half the fun, anyways.


End file.
